Return
by Cheeva
Summary: Then, celebrated warrior, spiritual awareness, capable of defending his dear. He knew who he was and his own name. Now, high priced killer, spiritual unaware, no personal relationships. He beliefs he knows who he is and his own name. But does he? Semi-AU. On hiatus.
1. Beautiful new life?

**Hi! I played with the idea of this for a long time. The first layout was that for a trilogy but I figured it would be too confusing if it would jump through the times, dimensions and point of views, the focus lies on Ichigo, Grimmjow and Shinji. That said, it looks confusing already, but it will not be. The retrospects to the different times are indicated through the speech.**

**I pondered about giving a heads up or not but I think you're clever enough to figure out what is going on!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, the characters or anything which might hint to anything which is owned by somebody else. Only the idea is based on my crazy mind.**

**There is going to be anal, hints of rape, lemons, tragedy, character deaths might be possible, violence, language and all kind of things which you should not read if you're under 18!**

* * *

He sat in the darkest corner of the strip club, loud music tempering with his hearing, the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, smoke and alcohol insulting his nose. His eyes were shut; his head was resting against the wall behind the bench. He was still wondering why he decided to take the job. He was stoned, completely baked. He felt tired, lazy and to top it off totally horny. And now he was stuck in this run down strip club waiting for the idiotic manager to show up and give him the money. He could not even remember why he allowed Ginjou to talk him into this.

_Urahara asked ya to do it, King. _He hated this voice in his head, called him a demon, but could not get rid of it. And at the moment he felt too sluggish to do anything against it.

_I know, now suck it up, 'm too tired to here ya voice. _He heard a soft chuckle in his head but no comment was made. Sighing and relaxing further in his seat, he heard a chair scraping against the hardwood floor. _The only expensive thing in this shit hole,_ he thought and was answered with a loud cackle inside his head. Apparently, Tanaka had arrived. He did not open his eyes nor move an inch. He just sat there, his head still against the wall, hidden under his white hoody. He heard further shuffling but did not acknowledge Tanaka's presence, who was now leaning against the table in front of him. He felt the difference in the heat surrounding him, he smelt his counterpart even with the heavy scent in the club. Still not saying anything, he shuffled a bit around, letting his partner think he tried to get a more comfortable position on the bench.

Tanaka did not recognize his movements as foreboding or dangerous, but they were. With his changed posture, one arm was lazily put above his thigh, the other shoved into the pocket of his hoody, his head still against the wall, he got the advantage to reach for his gun under his hoody faster and also take out the knife if need be.

"You should at least open your eyes! What does Ginjou think to send a stoned fucktard like you to get his money? Jeez, the motherfucker thinks too highly of himself!" The last part was muttered under the breath but was still heard by the armed man.

"Come on, kid, you're not even old enough to be inside this club. Fuck off and tell Ginjou I give a shit about what he thinks!"

_What ya planning, King? Some blood tonight? _A high pitch laugh echoed through his head.

_Nah, am too tired even for that._

_But the fucker needs a reminder whom he is talkin' to! _He could not agree more with his demon.

The _kid_ did not open his eyes, he just grabbed his knife and drove it into the table piercing the sleeves of an ugly shirt Ginjou's business contact was wearing. While doing so, he reached for his gun, pointed the efficient little thing directly at the head of the bad excuse of a human being. The man was still struggling with the knife and did not see the gun. Still baffled about the fastness of the kid, he chanced a look and was greeted with the barrel. He yelped lightly, trying unsuccessfully to free himself and hide his embarrassing position at the same time.

Tanaka did not see that coming when one of his girls announced to him that Ginjou send just a little boy to get his money. He thought he was off the hook for a while but now he felt so wrong about his assumptions. He did not know Ginjou had this kind of weapon up his sleeve. The man on the bench could not be older than 17, but he was not sure, the hood hid most of the face. But the scent of the guy definitely screamed all kinds of high and stoned, so how come the kid was still so fast.

"Name 's not kid, 'member that!" The kid slurred but at least opened his eyes. A cold rush ran down his spine. He still did not remember the kid but there was an icy coldness to those sienna and blue eyes he could not even describe. He remembered people hushing about a new shadow in the night, nothing else was known. Was this the guy? His actions screamed yes but the smell of purple and the slurry speaking spoke definitely against it. No killer with that kind of reputation could allow himself to be stoned at all. It could not be the one he was thinking of. But still, those eyes left all hairs on his body standing up, his gut yelled at him to run as fast and as far away as he could. The eyes were piercing him with anger and madness even though his pupils where widened from the purple he definitely smoked not so long ago.

"It's payday and ya come empty handed? 's not nice. Makes my work harder." The kid now leaned over and reached for the knife, ever so slowly. The barrel was still aimed directly between Tanaka's eyes, not wavering one second. The knife was withdrawn and the kid just slurred a slow "get it" before leaning against the wall again and closing his eyes.

Ginjou had said the guy was a monkey but he did not think about it earlier until he got a good glimpse of Tanaka. He certainly was. In front of him sat a hairy, scrawny little motherfucker who thought too much of himself. His eyes were small, dark, and beady. The hair from his breast showing from his collar, he displayed the worst mono- eyebrow ever seen in mankind and a moustache similar to a porn king out of the 80s. Tanaka did not move one bit, just gawked at the man with the gun. He did not dare to move and his table partner could not blame him for his hesitance even though it annoyed the shit out of him. He opened his eyes one more time, looking straight at the guy and lowered his gun.

"Move." He did not get louder, he whispered the word, he did not need to be loud. His low voice could not hide the threat behind his unsaid words. He rose from the bench and nudged his knees into Tanaka's side who was brought back out of his daze and started moving again. He stood and let the way to a door right next to the stage. Neither of them spared a look at the dancer doing her best in tangling her limbs around the pole. Tanaka feared for his life if he just moved an inch too much and the guy behind him was not in the slightest interested in one of the cheap women.

* * *

He tapped on the screen of his white work phone, holding it to his ear. His number would not be seen but he hoped that Ginjou would pick up anyway.

"Who the fuck is in need of a new asshole?!"

"Ya' killed my buzz! The little shit was fucking annoying, the club was not my style and I didn't even get a pussy to lick ma dick. So, how will ya pay me for that?" He looked at his watch, 3:17 a.m. Normally, exactly the right time to hook up with somebody. His look travelled lower down his own body to his crotch. So much for horny, he was flaccid again. _How come this happened all the time nowadays? _He thought, while registering just barley Ginjou's response.

_Because pussy ain't as good as tight ass. _His inner half answered for him.

_Doesn't change the fact that I'm not horny anymore. What happened there, dipshit? _Since his inner demon came back stronger a few years ago, Daiki junior was not so interested in playing around anymore.

"Kurosaki, you're faster than I thought!" Ginjou sounded surprised but he did not know what Kurosaki did apart from being one of Urahara's bartenders. He was met with silence and kept on talking.

"I'll pay you as promised, just what Urahara would pay you for this." That made him chuckle, he just counted the money he got from Tanaka, 10,000 bucks, not even enough for his normal salary but Ginjou must not know that.

"Naw, it's ok. Just remember, ya owe me one. At least I saw some skin. Money 's in tha hole, must hunt down something to fuck. See ya." Kurosaki cut the line before Ginjou could answer.

"Stupid bastard." Ginjou mumbled more to himself, still wondering if Kurosaki was the right guy but he managed to work so fast that there was no other explanations. Ginjou scrambled back into bed beside his lover and stopped pondering on the questions since a thin arm wrapped around his waist and a tongue started traveling down his spine. He turned around and watched Tsukishima with hungry eyes.

"You know what will happen if you don't stop tha' shit." Ginjou was in the mood alright but since he had had his lover two times that night, he did not think about taking him again.

"Make me stop, than." The challenge was uttered in between soft bites to his neck. Ginjou could not say no to the voice breathing softly into his ear. He turned, rolling himself on top of Tsukishima and started kissing him immediately. When they both came back for breath, Tsukishima had managed to roll them around again, straddling Ginjou's hips.

"I take it, Kurosaki was successful? Little punk is fast. Maybe, he'll is the right one. Maybe, he'll stop working for Urahara and come and play in the premiere league? I could teach him everything he needs to know and you could teach him to keep his hands from the drugs." He began rotating his hips slowly, feeling how Ginjou's hard member slid between his cheeks. He did not need any preparation and both of them knew it, just waiting for Tsukishima to stop his fooling around.

"You talk about other guys while you're sitting on my dick?" Ginjou grabbed his hips and in one fluid motion, sheathed himself in the tight hole of his lover. "I think you need a reminder who you belong to."

"You like...ah...nhhh...it. Hah, you want him, don't you? His innocent face...oh fuck...screams...yes, there...virgin." Ginjou did not know how Tsukishima was able to talk during their romps but he found it hot as hell. His pace becoming erratic, brutally pummelling the slim hips above his. Yes, he found Kurosaki hot, yes he wanted him in all kind of ways. He did not know much about the kid, tall and innocent looking and always stoned when he saw him. But his eyes; fixing, sienna, golden and blue, beautiful and dreamy. He would love to see those eyes begging right under him, the sound of the low baritone broken through too many panting. Thinking about that, he came hard, not even caring if his lover made it to the end. When he realized his bearings, he felt the stickiness of sperm on his abdomen. Looking into still hooded, steel grey eyes, he knew exactly what his lover was thinking about while coming, Kurosaki.

"You would love to have him, won't you?" Tsukishima slid from his softening member and laid down beside him, still panting from the exercise.

"Yeah, I could dominate him without any trouble and show the kid that my dick can alter his thinking." He nuzzled Ginjou's neck and slowly drifted off to sleep. Ginjou, feeling at peace with the soft breathing of his lover, soon followed him in the lands of dreams.

* * *

The ringing of a doorbell disturbed Daiki out of his sleep.

Not bothering to put any clothes on, he made his way to the door. In passing he chanced a look to his alarm clock, 7:29 a.m. Now, he was pissed, knowing fully well who dared to wake him this early after a work night.

_King, it's too early, even for me! _

_I know Fucktard, can't change it now, can I? _No answer was uttered, _definitely too early for the fucker._

"The fuck?" Daiki opened the door, not surprised to see his boss in front of him, carrying a big paper bag and coffee for two. At least he brought breakfast.

"Good morning my wonderful friend. How was your evening?" The high-pitched voice of his boss irritated him and everyone else in the world. The only surprise was, people that he got away with it around Daiki, that he was still alive.

Daiki snatched one of the coffees and started drinking the hot liquid on his way to the living room. Sitting down in his love seat he regarded his boss. Urahara was used to his nudeness and did not give a shit about it, sitting down on the couch and opening the bag. He revealed cartons with scrambled eggs, sausages, English muffins and sweet croissants. The hunger in Daiki's eyes was more than obvious. He figured as much, Daiki had his free evening yesterday and still decided to take on the _small_ favour for Ginjou. Normally, he would not even bother to answer his phone; he would have been too stoned to hear it anymore. Dramatic and dangerous attitudes of a high priced killer but still necessary once in a while.

"I figure, you didn't eat after your pleasure?" Urahara handed him a fork and napkins along with his part of the food.

"Nah, was too tired." Urahara was used to the straightforward behaviour of his subordinate. He was sleepy and hungry, a deathly combination. But looking at the killer with a plastic fork in his mouth, a bit egg on his cheek, fully naked in the big love seat, he could not refrain from chuckling. Daiki looked much younger than his 22 years.

"So, how was the strip club, you got anything nice to see?" Daiki seemed to inhale his foot since he was already done with eating and used the napkin to clean his mouth and hands. Afterwards, he leaned back, drank his coffee and took in the picture of his mentor and boss.

"Not interesting enough to go there, lack of class, lack of money, lack of power."

Urahara fumbled with his croissant and thought about the answer. Clearly, he did not send Daiki to gather information about the strip club but to achieve this alongside was always helpful.

"The hole is near the central station, a good idea to put it up in that area, always crowded, always in the lights. Not in danger to look suspicious." Urahara nodded to himself. Sure, it was crowded, nobody would look suspicious dropping off an envelope, but it seemed highly unpractical for all the transfers Ginjou had to have for his group. As if knowing what Urahara was thinking about, Daiki continued.

"He must have a second one outside of the city. He clearly can't send his nice little packages from this address. I think he might also have more than one."

"Hn... Sorry for not letting you in on it earlier."

"You had to make sure I was stoned so that Ginjou wouldn't think anything was off. He might think I forgot everything since I was almost out of it." Daiki frowned at his own words. He stood and walked over to the window, sliding it to the side and letting the crisp morning air into the room. While taking deep breaths, he tried to clear his head. He felt horny all the time nowadays but also felt lonely and not in the mood for contact. Even spending time at work, talking to patrons at the bar was irritating enough to have the need of killing somebody regularly. Bipolarity is a bitch. Thinking of what exactly hindered him from chatting up a nice little boy or girl was not in his favour, so he tried to cleanse his thoughts through the cold air swirling in his lungs.

Uahara watched the young man to his right. Even though his face screamed young boy, his body showed a completely different picture. He was tall, around 6'2" feet, his build was muscular but still extremely flexible, long legs, tanned skin, marred with scars and tattoos all over the body. From his angle, Urahara could see a few of the scars, unfortunately also the biggest one. It began around his left shoulder blade, going all the way down to his right hipbone and around his slim waist to the front, the scar thicker than an inch, not straight but jagged, looking like somebody tried to saw him in two. Urahara never found out how it happened and how he survived an incident causing such a scar. Even after all the years, it was still visible and it would let him feel a cold shudder. He never thought about asking the volatile man in front of him

His eyes travelled to the face again, he saw the now brown hair shadowing his sienna coloured eyes. Urahara could only think about how empty and cold those eyes looked when he spoke to him for the second time seven years ago. At that point, Daiki was just 15 years old. Too young to have that look on his face, too young to have seen everything he was put through.

At that point, Urahara knew almost everything about the boy; that his father died in the streets, that his mother abandoned him. Daiki, just nine years old, started living at his best friend's house. Some girl, which died a few years later. How, Urahara never found out, but was quiet sure, Daiki blamed himself for that. Afterwards, Daiki started getting lonely, stopped going to school, stayed out late, fought in the streets with a vengeance a 12-year-old scrawny little boy should not show. He got beaten for mouthing up, pushed around by the bigger kids and started using weed and razorblades on his arms. He got depressive until, at some point, he grew and did not stop growing until he reached the 6 feet around the young age of 14. Now, he was a scrawny tall guy, he gained weight, trained his body 24/7 in everything he could do by himself.

Urahara remembered that time since he kept the kid under surveillance already. He met him the first time during his growth spurt, almost 5'11" tall, the little punk pocket picked a woman so surprisingly fast, Urahara almost thought he was dreaming and in wonderland. After confronting the little shit, since the purse was the one of his friend, he asked why the boy was not at home. He saw how afraid the boy was, but Daiki tried to hide it. He just sat there, looking defiantly at him, trying to stare him down but not answering. Urahara had to chuckle, thinking about their first meeting. Had he known, what he became aware of just a year later, he had not hesitated in his actions and taken the punk under his wings directly. Urahara felt the bitterness and the guilt building up in him again. Shaking his head, he looked down on his hands, carefully elaborating what he is going to share with the young man in front of him.

"They want me, don't they?" It seemed that Daiki rose from a daze, too, shaking his head and sauntering back to his love seat.

"Yes and it's our -" one risen eyebrow let Urahara reconsider his answer "- my best option. I need to know more about it and they think you're just a little high school punk, too young to be experienced and just a bartender and errand boy for me."

"But I'm not." Daiki said this, without any hesitance. Urahara agreed with him, nodding and sighing at the same time.

"Still, I must let you go on this one. You need to move, they'll start to follow you more and more. I don't like how this Tsukishima guy looked at you."

"Tsk, as if you're afraid something might happen to me. Since when are you that sentimental?" Daiki chuckled to himself. Sure, Urahara was not known for his friendliness or sympathy, but both of them knew that Daiki was special to him. Knowing this and voicing this were just seemingly different points.

"I'll take my leave then. Have a nice day. I'll call you with new instructions and try to get in touch with Ginjou as soon as you can." Daiki grunted his approval and stood to wish his boss goodbye.

* * *

After a long and hot shower, Daiki stood in front of his living room window again, spacing out and not knowing what to do with himself.

_I know what you could do. _He knew he was not schizophrenic, he knew he had not a split personality but he was border lining in those directions, the voice was proof enough for that.

_What do you want? I don't have time for playing stupid games again. _He heard his inner demon cackling at that.

_Ya don't have time for games? Ya were almost dying of boredom here! _Huffing and deepening his frown were his only outlets for the frustrating conversations he had with his inner self. He tried to shut him out, he managed to do that for a few years during his worst time in life but the guy came back, pestering him on the funeral of his mother. Why? He did not know but since then he was there.

_As I said that time: I'm back and I'm here to stay, King._

_And as I already asked you then: why King? Why me and- _Daiki took a deep breath in his mind - _just shut up! _He leaned his head against the frame, looking in a distance only he could see and waiting for an answer.

_Ya know ya could be a bit grateful here, don't ya think?_

_Hate to repeat myself: what do you want, idiot?_

_Calling ma ass an idiot is the same as calling yaself an idiot. _At this point, Daiki clenched and unclenched his fists. He could not hurt himself and he knew he would not be able to get rid of his demon half so why not listening to him.

_Ya always listen to me when ya high. I knew ya would carve one of these days when ya 'r totally sober. So, what I was saying 's: don't trust Ginjou._

_Duh, no way and I was head over heals here. Kind of late for you to say so._

_Yahah, I know ya don't trust him now but ya would at some point. Don't forget I know ya thoughts and this time listen just once. It's easier for ya._

Daiki turned around, deciding it was time to do some grocery shopping and getting some other things done, he crossed the living room on the search for his phones.

_Ya could at least answer in some way, 's not nice to keep me hangin', ya know?_

_Isn't it obvious that I won't trust him anyway? I thought you didn't need anymore input from me._

_Need's a strong word. Ya know I hate it if ya concentrate on shit like ya shopping list. Can't work with that. _Daiki heard his inner half sighing, a small smile playing across his features. Yes, he knew exactly what unnerved his. Even concentrating on women instead of men unnerved the demon. He got the feeling his second half was gay.

_So what? I heart me some tighter holes than ya do, it's not a shame. _The sigh this time was louder than the last one. Daiki was still without an answer but in the end, it did not matter. His demon was as he always was: unchangeable, stubborn, cruel and refreshing.

_Awww, I heard that, King. Knew ya would change ya mind sometime._ Daiki cringed at that. He forgot that his thoughts weren't secret as the thoughts of others. Free yes, his demon never judged but still not secret.

* * *

Thanks for reading, the second chapter is almost done...hope you enjoyed it.


	2. And hollow again

**Here I am again and I hope you enjoyed the last chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach etc.**

**This time, small lemon, not much action but a lot of explanations.**

* * *

Two weeks later.

Steam wafted through the bathroom. Daiki stood under the hot spray and waited for the water to soak into his hair. He loved changes but moving was just too stressful, he felt spent.

_King, it was time to move out of that small card box. We need a castle to park our ass! _He rested his body against the wall, letting the clear water run down his hard and sore muscles.

_It's still fuckin' annoying. _He sighed and let his hands comb through his now wet hair.

_Ya know ya need to redo ya hair soon. _His demon was surprisingly tame and nice enough to remind him of his hair colour. His hair was naturally orange, neither red nor blonde, but orange. Sometimes, it had shone even a bit golden in the right light. It was a long time ago that he decided to go for a dark, low- key brown instead of the safety cone coloured hair. Bits and pieces of his past flashed in front of his closed eye. Him as a kid with his parents at the sea, him with his dad in the park, him alone in front of a bakery on a cold winter morning seeing his reflection in the window.

_Mah, mah, it's gettin' kinda disturbing in here. Can ya keep ya depressing thoughts to yourself?_

_I would, if I could. Don't have the energy at the moment._

He remembered one special day, he was nine years old and proud as a young boy can be, waiting at home for his dad. He got an A for his science project that day. He waited at the front the door, wanted to show his dad the minute he came home from work. He was sitting in the sun, seeing his reflection in the small puddle right in front of the steps. It had rained earlier that day and the forecast was promising more rain during the night. The short amount of sun was just like a present for Daiki's hard work and with huge golden brown eyes he watched how the sun reflected in his spiky orange hair, how it gleamed like a halo right on top of his head. He was fascinated for a few minutes, his mind not on his father but soon his fascination died and a dark feeling in his gut rose. He sat there for hours, never moving an inch in hope his father would still show up.

Soon, it started raining again, harder than before. Daiki was drenched in seconds but he did not move. At some point it got dark and the young boy still waited for his father, outside. He got cold but never moved. Until at some point, his demon screeched at him for being so stubborn. Daiki was told to keep it together, be a man and if he did not want to go inside again, he should at least go and see if he could find his father.

At that time, Daiki was still listening to his other half, never questioning him or ignoring him. He was part of him and since Daiki had more or less no friends he stick to his other half. So, he got up and left the steps he was sitting on. He walked across the area for several hours. He knew it by heart, he had explored the streets of the town more often alone as a kid his age should do.

When he heard loud shouts coming out of an alley right next to one of the strip clubs further down in the darker part of town, he followed the noise, even though his demon yelled at him to get the fuck away. The boy had never heard his other self that alarmed and that vulgar. But he still kept on walking, slowly along the wall, hiding behind all the dumpsters and garbage disposed of in the small alley.

His gut told him something was wrong and that something concerned him somehow. Just a few steps further down the alley he saw three men standing over a groaning figure on the ground. The guy on the floor tried to stand; he shuffled around but could not find the energy to push himself from the ground. Just as he moved his head and looked in Daiki's direction the boy recognised his father. He wanted to shout and to run to his father but his inner demon did a hell of a job to keep him in the spot right between the dumpster and the wall. His father saw him; he struggled more, pushed himself from the ground and in that moment a gun shot interrupted his movements. His eyes on Daiki, his lips formed unheard words for the last time, as he fell to the ground right into the other half of his brain which was splattered there mere milliseconds before.

* * *

_KING! _The yell in his head sucker punched him out of his reverie.

_What?_

_What? What the fuck is up with ya? That time is over. Ya'll never think of that again. Damn, do ya know how much it hurts when ya remember that shit? The pain is unbelievable. _His demon kept on rambling about his pain. As if that pain was not Daiki's but just his inner self's.

True, Daiki never felt that bad about the time. He felt numb when he thought about his past, about what he did for a living. Rage, yes, but also extremely numb and helpless. But confusing with his numbness was, there was always a disturbing feeling of failure. Almost, as if he would have been able to help his father, but he knew he was not.

_Ya were able - _his inner self interrupted him again. Clouded and muddled images flooded his mind but he did not pay attention when he answered. He felt the rage and the pain from his other half but could not understand how it could feel so different from his own. So he yelled straight back, fight his only answer nowadays, even in defending him against his own mind.

_What? I was nine years old. Don't fuck with me you little shit. You know perfectly well what it feels like so shut up. _The images flooding his mind cleared more and more. The snippets more identifiable but Daiki still did not pay attention to them.

_Ya know, I should let ya live through that damn emo pain and not suck it up so that ya can run around as high as ya feel all the time ya motherfucker! _His demon started insulting him.

_You know, you shit for brains, that you are me and I'm you. So you're insulting yourself right now as you pointed out to me a few days ago. Anyway, shut the fuck up you unhealthy parasite._

_Woohooo, unhealthy parasite? I keep asking myself who the parasite is in this, ya know?_

Daiki lost his patience and threw his fist into the wall right in front of him. Even without opening his eyes he knew that he broke several tiles and maybe scratched his skin. But he did not give a fuck. His own feelings flooded more and more with feelings he did not know could be that strong. His rage grew, yes, but also his emotional pain, his distress and his loneliness. Even the images did flash faster in his mind. Never stopping, never letting see him one long enough to maybe recognise the situation.

_By the way, I got the feeling ya can't get it up anymore because ya became the pussy yaself. Maybe we should split so that I can fuck ya really nice and hard in that virgin hole of yours. _His demon did not show any sympathy and kept on insulting him, hitting every nerve he knew would set off Daiki even more.

_Oh and maybe I can find a woman looking exactly like ya whorish mother so that I can fuck her in front of ya. Let her suck my dick and get her covered in my cum just for ya to see. And when I'm done doing that I should sent a film of my 'nice' behaviour to Urahare so that he'll find out how dirty ya are and as a tip of what I'm capable of doing to him._ His demon was on a role. Insulting everything and anything remotely close to Daiki.

On the other side of the mind, Daiki's rage ebbed away and left space for more and more distress and hurt. He forgot about his throbbing hand. He slowly sank to his knees, feeling nauseous. The flashing hurt his head as well as the screeching of his demon. The insults kept nagging his pride; his long stored and forgotten feelings and the water dropping down on him remembered him of the day his father died. He turned to the side; the sickness unbearable and he retched and heaved. His body convulsed until his stomach was empty and than some more. Through the whole ordeal his demon never stopped and even started to increase his torments.

_W...Why? _Even in his mind his voice sounded weak, cracked and raw. Daiki was exhausted but did not think that there was an end coming to his ordeal.

_Wrong question again, Ichigo! _Now, even his counterpart seemed exhausted or found another nickname for him. He did not know but also did not want to ask about it.

_What is the right question? _Daiki was done for, his whole concentration on staying awake enough but not able to stand up, let alone climb out of his shower. To Daiki's relief, his inner half hesitated for what felt like the first time ever. In a very quiet and small voice Daiki almost could not make out, he said: _Ya know the right question and once ya ask ya also know the right answer to the question. Just remember._

Daiki, unable to move at all, enjoyed the following silence. He tried to search through his head for a question and the answer but the flashing of memories kept him away from any real thinking. When he started paying attention to the pictures he saw flashes of orange.

_Orange? _His demon did not answer but he felt that he was still near him. The flow of images slowed down a bit and he saw the orange guy in the pictures. He looked almost like him, a few inches smaller, less build, leaner and missing his tattoos and scars. It could have benen an identical twin of him. What was happening to him? Why did he see images of himself doing something he never did before and looking in a way he never looked like? He saw himself wearing a black cape or something and he was fighting with a katana. He was trained in swordsmanship; he was a master, but he had never held a sword this black in his hands before. What was going on?

_Who are you? _He heard a low chuckle before his demon answered in a smoother voice, almost velvety and low.

_You're near the very important question. I'm you, you are me, we have been there already. _After that the images slowed a bit more. Now, he could make out two other people. One was the same height; clad completely in white, wearing a huge mask like thing with long, pointed horns. The other one had the back to the image. He was the same height, had shoulder long brown hair waving in the wind and wore also a black kind of cape.

_Who are they? _

_The question is not who or what. _His demon was no help at all. But Daiki got the feeling that the three guys in the image felt quite familiar. They felt like he always imagined a home should feel like. The images stopped with his copy and the white clad figure facing off each other, swords drawn and directing menacing looks at each other. The third person joined the white copy and the images moved on, like a short film without tone in his head. The brown haired guy had blue eyes, looking sadly at the orange copy. Than, something must have happened what Daiki did not get, but after a moment there was only orange left starring at a white figure. Disturbingly enough, the features of the mixture were similar to his.

_What the hell? _He never received an answer but the image was frozen at exactly the moment both guys seemed to yell at each other. Something was definitely off. The white copy did not seem to want to fight the orange one. Whereas the orange one seemed surprised.

_Guess I'm not alone with not expecting that to happen._ Daiki chuckled despite him still lying in the bathtub, in his own puke and a steady stream of now cold water covering his body.

_That was for sure at that time. _

_Was for sure? That time? _

_Ooops! Still, not the right question, Ichigo. _This time his demon was not enraged, so he definitely received a new nickname during their battle.

_No, not NEW and not NICK name. _Daiki concentrated on the frozen image in his head instead of the riddles his demon presented him with. He still felt at home and at ease with the picture. He knew he belonged there but he could not figure out why and how.

Concentrating on the eyes of the guys, he saw orange wearing a hardened scowl and his brown eyes were filled with determination. The white guy had one gold on black eye and one aqua blue one, the mixture comforting and slightly disturbing at the same time. Those eyes remembered him of his own. Yes, they were sienna brown, shone from brown to golden, depending on the light and his feelings and he knew about this small blue spots just near the outer corner of his iris. As disturbing as his eyes seemed to his victims, they were always mesmerised right before he killed them. Those eyes, something was not normal, they almost, all of them, looked like his eyes.

He heard his own voice utter in a calm and quiet voice: _Are all of them I? _Without even receiving an answer he knew the answer.

_You're getting nearer. _His demon trailed off, neither confirming what he already knew, nor denying it. Instead the images started flashing like they did earlier. Daiki felt a second wave of nausea grip him and he started convulsing again. The images in his head were moving too fast for his liking. He heaved dryly for a few seconds before he could endure the flickering in his mind, feeling extremely unsteady and physically worn out, but his mind did not want to shut up.

It stopped again, this time the orange guy stretched his arms away, letting his sword holding arm fall down and it looked like he welcomed the other guy in his arms. The white copy shoved his sword right through the other's torso. Their reactions were completely controversial to their actions. Where the orange guy looked understanding and welcoming, the white one was surprised and crying in agony. Confusion once more laid its cloak upon Daiki. He did not understand the whole picture but he understood that something very relevant was happening, that this was it, the moment. He did not know why but he wanted to make the white guy feel better, he had the strongest urge to lessen his pain and his sorrows, to embrace him, call his name and caress his hair.

_What is your name? _He knew that was the question. He knew who the white guy was, who this copy of him was. He did not know where those images, or more memories, came from but he simply knew he was the orange head and his demon the white head.

_Took you long enough, King. _His demon still did not answer but Daiki remembered, as soon as he asked the question, the name of his other half.

_Hibiki*... _it was a whisper, a mere caress of the name instead of the shout Hibiki estimated from his stubborn counterpart. A shudder ran down Daiki's spine that had nothing to do with the coldness around him. He did not know why but he felt at ease, calm. He did not mind the water anymore; everything in his head vanished apart from Hibiki's presence now stronger than ever before. Daiki felt, for the first time ever, almost complete and not hollow anymore.

* * *

_Welcome back, King. _Hibiki purred in his head, stretched his presence from his mind to his whole body, from the tip of his toes into his last hair, he felt filled in a nice and soothing kind. The presence was warm, not menacing or threatening as the years before. Embraced by this strong feeling inside of him, Daiki found the strength to push into a sitting position and to turn the water off, the puke already forgotten and rinsed down the drain. Slowly, he stood and exited the shower, moving to the mirror.

Daiki changed during this shower and he thought maybe his exterior changed as well. He knew that that was simply stupid since he was a mere human but one never knew. Hibiki laughed in his head but Daiki did not get what the funny part was. Even though he accepted his demon that did not mean he must always understand him.

_Damn right. It takes more time for ya to understand. _The look into the mirror was disturbing for Daiki for a different reason than he expected. Nothing had changed even though he expected his hair to be orange or his eyes to be brown or golden and not this mixture right in between those colours.

_Look deeper. _Hibiki, his personal riddle, offered very unhelpful. But Daiki did it anyway; he inspected his tattoos, his scars and even his dick.

_Ya really expected your dick to change? _Hibiki was having a field trip in his mind, howling with laughter. Daiki smirked, silly to think his glorious dick would shrink or change.

_You never know, ne? _He had a lot of fun inspecting his body. Right in that moment, the sun broke through the clouds and shone directly onto his side. With a gasp, Daiki saw that something had changed, his eyes. Even though they were still that molten honey or sienna brown and looked exactly the same on the first sight, the blue spots were missing.

_So, I'm still missing something. _He did not ask, he knew. _Or not something, more someone. _The shiver Hibiki felt was answer enough and it meant his demon did not like that topic. Daiki could live with that, for now.

_King? _Daiki heard his phone ringing but stood still in front of the mirror watching himself and nodded. Somehow his instinct told him that Hibiki could see everything he saw what meant he also saw his reflection.

_One more thing-. _Daiki's phone rang from anew. The obnoxious sound of the new phone he got from Urahara for his work with Ginjou was proof enough that only Ginjou could be calling. Daiki still looked into the mirror and nodded again. Ginjou was not important enough to disrupt his conversation. Besides, the man thought Daiki was a 17 year old ever stoned kid who got lucky a few times and was extremely attractive. Daiki knew how he appeared but now he got the feeling that there was a good reason behind it.

_Keep on going - _The ringing ended again and Hibiki seemed to ponder how to say what he wanted to say.

_That's a first. _

_Don't ya dare make fun of me. Never mind, I just wanna remind ya: keep away from Ginjou! _Daiki smirked as an answer.

Wondering, if the water was hot again to take a quick, real shower, he looked to the tank and saw the green light. Once again, he found himself under a hot spray of water, running his hands through his hair. He groaned softly to the arousing feeling he created for himself and soon his dick asked for more hands moved down his torso, slowly distributing the body soap and massaging it into his sore muscles.

_Hibiki - _Daiki more or less purred the name when his arm lightly grazed his member. He felt a shudder run through his whole body and heard Hibiki moaning.

_You want me to keep on talking like that to you? _He rasped the words in his mind, wondering how it would feel like to whisper them into Hibiki's ear while he played with his nipples and sunk himself into Hibiki's hole. The phantasy produced vivid images and got Hibiki into a panting state, unable to pick up the conversation from earlier.

_King, please..._ Hibiki mewled in his head and Daiki moved his right hand to his left nipple and started to tweak and rub it. Hibiki produced more images and his feelings poured more and more into Daiki. The ecstasy he felt ten-folded with the knowledge that he was not only masturbating for himself but also for another one. His left hand rubbed over his thigh and wandered up to his hard on, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. He grabbed himself and started stroking in hard and languid motions.

_Yessss...fuck...yesss! _Hibiki focussed his presence into his brain and his nether regions. He was almost keening when he felt the right hand fondle with Daiki's scrotum. He could not believe that the guy was thinking of Hibiki and himself while masturbating. It was so wrong and so right at the same time.

_You feel it, don't you? You dirty slut, you want me to fuck you so hard even though it would be so wrong. _Daiki panted heavily but he did not need to actually talk but only think this. And thinking this made him even harder. Pictures of Hibiki in the same shower with him, on his knees right before him and sucking him off flooded his brain.

_Oh yes. I knew it, you would love to taste me, don't you? Oh fuck, that is so hot! _He spun Hibiki's imagination to further extents. In his phantasy he grabbed Hibiki by his thighs and hooked them around his waist. He kneaded Hibiki's ass and watched how he would mewl and pant right in front of him. How he clasped to Daiki's back and how his silken walls would feel when he suddenly thrust into him.

_Shit...fuck...Ichi...YESSS. _The sole thought of not preparing Hibiki before entering him had his other half so aroused?

_You're a dirty little cock slut, aren't you? Fuck, I would love to fuck you right now!_ He felt himself speeding to his own orgasm as his stomach started clenching and his sack tightening. He knew his inner half was near as well, so he kept on talking dirty in his mind and stroking his hard on as well as rubbing his nipples. He heard the panting and felt the overwhelming pressure in his body rise beyond measure.

_Cum for me, my little slut. _He purred in his head and than everything exploded in a dust of white lightening. He felt himself coming but that was not all, he heard Hibiki screaming his new nickname and a tightening grip on every fibre his inner self could attach to. Hibiki was everywhere, his presence was over-boarding and once again, Daiki sunk to his knees in his bathtub, before suddenly, everything inside him vanished.

"Fuck!" He pushed himself from his position and stood, turning off the shower. Hibiki's presence was gone, completely gone. There must be a mistake, it did not feel right.

"Shit! FUCK!" Daiki looked at his empty hands, exactly how he felt right now. Hibiki was gone and Daiki felt split in two. He knew he could not, should not, think about it too much. Hibiki came back after the last time, he will come back again, he must.

_Please, come back._

* * *

Grimmjow sat upon one of the white broken stones near Las Noches, or what was left from Las Noches. He had surveived. Plagued by Harribel and Nelliel and only because of Neliell and her Fraccion but Grimmjow did not want to think of it. He helped the bunch during the years after the Quincy left Hueco Mundo and were defeated by no one else as his archenemy, Kurosaki Ichigo. Grimmjow could not care less as to think about that guy, his nemesis.

He knew Kurosaki was stronger, by far stronger, but he also knew that Kurosaki was a softy who never would be able to kill somebody if his own life depended on it. On the other hand, if the life of his dearest friends depended on it, Kurosaki was all for killing. Grimmjow felt irritated, exactly like he had been going on for the past few days. Years have passed since he felt this restless and his hands were itching to kill something or somebody. More to say, he felt like killing Kurosaki.

His insticts told him that something was going to happen. Something big was coming their way and without the orange top it would be going to be hard on the shinigami. Grimmjow himself had a few scarring battles against one or two captains but since that was settled a few years ago, no other shinigami dared to come back to Hueco Mundo. The settlement was reached by Grimmjow killing, decapitating and by that destroying the captains. They were creeps, anyway. The new ones who wanted to show off that they could be as hard and as famous as some of the old, fallen heroes.

But, there was a problem for them as well as for Grimmjow himself.

The fucking orange top loomed over all the worlds and irritated anybody who wanted to leave an imprint of him and follow into the footsteps of Kurosaki. With defeating countless captains, espada, Aizen himself, Quincies and, finally, Juha Bach, Kurosaki showed how perfect he was and how big those footsteps are.

He was a human, a shinigami, a hollow, and a Quincy. He was the perfect hybrid, a being that should be chosen to become the Soul King at some place in time. So perfect, even Grimmjow knew what should have happened to him, without getting in too deep in the balance of all the different worlds.

But no, the stupid brat had a better idea. He decided to get himself killed and die on the battlefield right before the end of the war. Grimmjow was not able to fight him one more time and damn, how he wanted to beat that handsome face into purple and black, again. But no, since Kurosaki decided, dying on his own accords would be perfect because he could not stand the hardships of dealing with a broken heart, his damn soul split apart.

His hollow and his sword manifested themselves and since then Grimmjow was damned to have to look out for the bad carbon copy of his archenemy. It wasn't the problem that fighting Hibiki was no fun, not at all. But Hibiki was not Kurosaki. They were completely different in their fighting styles, their moods and demeanour. Without his human or shinigami self, the damn hollow tended to get even harder mood swings than a pregnant women. He was so fucked up, that between killing and destroying everything around him, crying and sobbing until unconsciousness reached him and mad laughing fits, there was never a balance.

The plus side was that Grimmjow got to know more about Kurosaki's past and also about the part that his soul was reborn. Fragments of Hibiki were still with the other soul. The irony was that Kurosaki 2.0 was living as gangster, killing people for the fun of it and no hint of spiritual awareness at all. Karma is a bitch. Grimmjow would have run directly to kick the fucking shit out of him but since Kurosaki could not see him, there was no point in attacking him.

Now, Grimmjow was confronted with a different problem. Hibiki was lying to his feet, he was moaning like a 2 $ whore on her busy Friday before but now, he lay completely still on the ground. Grimmjow did not know what to do. If the Hollow died right now, there would never be a connection to Kurosaki again. But on the other side, a dead Hibiki meant silence and peace for him. Besides, Kurosaki did not even know about his past life and was not able to fight against Grimmjow at all. He stuck his hands into his Hakama and started kicking into Hibiki.

"Bitch, don't die. Would be a hassle to keep away all the small fry coming around to eat ya." Grimmjow's leg was pushed to the side and he saw that Hibiki moved until he knelt down and heaved into the dry white sand.

"What's going on, Snowflake?"

"He...argh...he remembered...fuck...my name." Grimmjow stared down at the white lizard. He could not comprehend what he just heard. Without feeling anything about the vomit emitting from Hibiki, he gripped the white hollow's collar and scooted his face close to his.

"The fuck? Ya' sure? What else happened?" _Did he remember me? _The last part was only a fleeting thought Grimmjow did not want to think too much about.

"Nothing else, the connection broke. I can't feel him anymore!" Shoving Grimmjow's arms away, Hibiki stood. He was facing the moon above them, not blinking.

"What? Why? How can that happen?" Grimmjow wanted to get a hold of Hibiki again. He needed to get a hold of the only connection he had.

"I don't know." Hibiki only answered in a small voice. Keeping his eyes trained on the moon.

"It's time to see Zan." Grimmjow, never able to forget the name oh Kurosaki's sword, blinked in surprise. He never thought about contacting Zangetsu and look for his help. But than again, asking for help was not in Grimmjow's vocabularly at all. Still looking at Hibiki, he pondered if it was worth his time to follow the Snowflake.

"Ya know, ya should come as well. Could be fun, don't ya think? We could kill a few shinigami before we meet up with him!" Hibiki was leering at Grimmjow as if the thought of killing and spilling blood was like sex. Grimmjow smirked back, it was definitely arousing to him.

"Ya know how I love it, Snowflake!" That said, Grimmjow raised his right arm and opened a Garganta.

* * *

_It is time to remember. _A soft voice spoke to him, coming from a beautiful, dark skinned woman with long purple hair. She wore tight dark clothes and an orange jacket. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail. He worshipped every part of her body, he huge breasts, her soft caramel coloured skin, her dark cat like eyes.

_Kisuke, we need you, remember! _With a start, Urahara Kiyoshi awoke. He kept dreaming of this woman for the last few weeks. She always repeated the same sentence, that it was time to remember. Tonight, for the first time she called out a name. Urahara rubbed his still closed eyes and tried to remember more of the dream, normally he would just rub one off to the figure in his head, too beautiful, too fierce to forget. But not tonight, tonight something was different, but he barely remembered, why.

"Why Kisuke?"

* * *

***I decided to go for Hibiki instead of the common Shiro. Hibiki means Echo and for me, it just fits perfectly for the Hollow part of Ichigo.  
AN: The next update will take some time, but I hope not longer than a month. Hope you enjoyed it, please review!**


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